Empty Chairs At Empty Tables
by HobbitGirlForever
Summary: Rated PG for dark angsty dramatic themes. This story takes place after the battle against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.


****

Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

An HP Song-fic centered around the song by the same name from the wonderful Broadway musical Les Misérables

Disclaimer- They aren't mine…no, not even Ickle Ronniekins (pouts). The song isn't mine either…DUH! TISSUE ALERT….angst and plenty of it!

Hermione walked wearily into the Great Hall. The battle had been long and she was tired…so tired. All of her muscles ached as a result of the Crutacius Curse among many others as well as from the strenuous physical work that it took to battle Voldemort and his death eaters.

Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. She could not remember the last time that she slept or ate. Her hair was a little tamer than it normally was because it was caked with dirt and blood. Her robes were torn and bloodied from her own blood, the blood of her fellow students, and the blood of her enemies.

She looked around the hall where all surviving students were to congregate following the battle. It seemed so cold and empty. There were so many people missing.

There's a grief that can't be spoken  
There's a pain goes on and on  
Empty chairs at empty tables  
Now my friends are dead and gone

She stood on her tip-toes searching for familiar faces. She saw that the house missing the most students was Slytherin. Most of them had chosen to follow Voldemort with their parents, leading to their death or imprisonment that was certain to end in the kiss of the Dementors. Draco Malfoy was among the few who chose to stay with Dumbledore. Most of the brave few were now lying dead just outside.

Hermione would always remember Draco standing up proud and tall as he walked to the Headmaster to pledge his allegiance to their cause. He had promised to protect Dumbledore with his life, which is one promise that he did keep. He marched in the front of the mob of students and staff. He was the first one to be killed. She would always remember how brave he was and how he fell. Harry was at his side when he was struck with the curse. As the pain from the curse overtook him, Draco told Harry to make sure that Voldemort fell. His gray eyes then rolled back into his head as death took him.

Here they talked of revolution  
Here it was they lit the flame  
Here they sang about "tomorrow"  
And tomorrow never came. 

"Harry…" Hermione said quietly as she approached a raven-haired boy who was standing near the door, his forehead pressed against the wall. Harry turned, his glasses were clenched in one hand and his wand in the other. His cheeks were tearstained and his eyes were filled with pain. His scar appeared to have burst during his final battle with the dark lord. Streams of dried blood streaked his face.

"Dumbledore is dead and," He paused choking back tears "and Ginny. Ginny is dead. She tried to help me. She tried to protect me. He killed her. That bloody bastard killed her. Then he tried to kill me when I ran to her. But he couldn't. Just like with my mother. " He collapsed to the floor in a fit of sobs. 

From the table in the corner  
They could see a world reborn  
And they rose with voices ringing  
I can hear them now 

Hermione slowly backed away from her friend. Suddenly it struck her like a load of bricks. They are dead they are not coming back. People she knows, people that she loves are now dead. Ginny was dead. Her best and only female friend and confidant was dead. Her heart ached with her pain and with Harry's pain. She remembered Ginny's ever cheerful nature and sense of humor. She remembered her abundant freckles and her shiny red hair.

A wave of panic spread through her. Where was he? She ran through the hall looking for his trademark red hair. She could not see him. Hermione scrambled onto a nearby bench to see if she could spot him. He wasn't there. Ron wasn't in the hall.

The very words that they had sung  
Became their last communion  
On the lonely barricade at dawn!

"Professor! Have you seen Ron?" Hermione asked as she ran towards Professor McGonagall. "Please tell me you have seen him. That you know where he is!"

"I'm sorry Ms. Granger but I know nothing about the whereabouts of Mr. Weasley. I am afraid that I have not seen him since he ran up the hill towards the death eaters approaching from the west." Her eyes were pained as she turned and walked away.

"No." She said plainly as she turned and walked into the entry hall and stood in the doorway. All that she saw around her was destruction and death. Remaining Aurors and Ministry Officials were apparating from this place to be with their families.

He couldn't be dead. Ron couldn't be dead. She wrapped her arms around herself and began to cry uncontrollably. She fingered the edge of the maroon sweater that she wore under her robes. It still smelled of soap and peppermint…even after all of this. Sobs wracked her whole body and she reached a hand out to the doorframe to steady herself.

"Ron." She said tearily.

Oh my friends, my friends, forgive me  
That I live and you are gone.  
There's a grief that can't be spoken  
There's a pain goes on and on

Her eyes closed as she remembered Ron. The look of shock on his face when she had kissed him on the cheek and the look of pride on his face after he helped the team win. How close of friends they had become in fourth year because of him being jealous of Harry and how they fought at the Yule ball. How she had thought that he was going to die in their third year and how she had sworn that she would never argue with him or nag him again if he lived. She remembered the look of joy on his face when she walked into the Great Hall after being petrified. A brave and loyal knight is how she had thought of him after he was willing to sacrifice himself in first year in the giant game of wizard's chess.

Hermione remembered the first time that she saw him when she had came into his and Harry's compartment on the train. His face was scattered with hundreds of freckles and a bit of dirt was on his nose. The first thing that she had noticed was not the dirt, his freckles, or even his ginger colored hair…it had been his shockingly blue eyes. The same blue eyes that she had stared in late yesterday afternoon only hours before the battle.

The memory that was the most clear was him hugging her tightly yesterday as she tried not to cry. His cerulean eyes pleaded with her as he told her that everything would be okay and that he would see her when the battle was over, in the Great Hall. Ron had tried to tell her something else but did not have the chance.

Hermione fell to her knees on the cold stone floor. She continued to weep with one hand covering her face and the other clutching the maroon sweater.

Phantom faces at the window  
Phantom shadows on the floor  
Empty chairs at empty tables  
Where my friends will meet no more.

"Not Ron! No don't you take him from me!" She screamed angrily at the sky before collapsing onto the floor. "Take me please! But don't take Ron!"

Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me  
What your sacrifice was for  
Empty chairs at empty tables  
Where my friends will sing no more.

Hermione then felt a strong pair of arms wrap around her and hold her tightly. The smell of peppermint invaded her senses.

"Now that wouldn't work 'Mione and you know it." A masculine voice said soothingly.

Hermione turned slowly around in his arms.

"I thought you were dead!" She cried with a gasp. "And why wouldn't that work?"

"See you don't know everything." He said with a smirk. "It wouldn't work because I couldn't make it without you either."

He kissed her gently on the forehead and pulled her into his embrace once again.

"I love you 'Mione." He whispered.

"I love you too Ron." She replied

__

(A/N- Aww. Please review and ….ok here I have to say it…)

"Um…Hermione. Isn't that my sweater???"


End file.
